Monday, April 26, 2010

True Story Tuesday - The Clean Plate Club

Time to link up your hilarious/amazing/outrageous/miraculous and TRUE story and share the comment love! Everyone's got one of these family legends that keeps getting retold (or rather, just won't die!) - just grab the code underneath the True Story Tuesday button on the right sidebar, add it to your post, then come back and link up for the best kind of storytelling - the true kind!

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This week brought to you by the one-and-only Mr. Daddy... the man who is now realizing that those things you did to your parents, come back to haunt you :)

The Clean Plate Club

While reading Julie's Letter Of Intent last Friday, what she said about eating everything on your plate, and all the comments that followed sparked an ancient memory.

What she said about the Clean Plate Club, which we will refer to as the CPC for the rest of this story, is not how I remember it from my youth.

Now we must remember that my youth was a couple of decades ago. Wellllllllllll maybe a few more than a couple, but not many.

Now my parents being old school, as in being raised in the era of the Great Depression, had cause to be a fan of the CPC. In fact, the stories that they tell it is pretty much a given that you were just plain old thankful to have anything on your plate at all at times....

The purpose of my saying this is not to debate any theological, or social, or moral issues about whether or not you should or should not make your child eat all on their plate or not.

I am not qualified to say that if you make them eat everything they will be obese. Or if you let them leave whatever they want to they will be unthankful...

It is just plain fact that when I was growing up, if it was put on your plate, you ate it... Now in their defense it was always nutritional and balanced meals, with all the food groups represented in tasty and appealing ways (think Leave it to Beaver here and you will get the picture).

(Rach in: Sorry, I am having fits of giggles about that Leave It To Beaver thing... his mom IRONS their jeans, and uses bleach in the carwash soap. I am such an unfit housekeeper next to this family :)

The proportions were never huge unless we wanted more, and God help us if our eyes were bigger than our stomachs. Cause if you didn't finish it for dinner it would probably be served cold for breakfast....

Don't judge them, they are the best parents that I could of ever asked for. They raised three of their own and a hatful of other people's children to adulthood, and for the most part we are all pretty much normal.... normal (twitch) normal (twitch) normal (twitch, twitch)

Another thing I remember was you didn't talk back or sass, and you ALWAYS respected your elders, always....
R.E.S.P.E.C.T. was ALWAYS enforced.

Well we were having oysters for dinner, fried. Now I know that you can have them on the half shell, you can have them sauteed, you can have them grilled, or in soup... My Dad liked them fried. Dip them in flour and seasoning salt and fry them puppies to a golden brown and they are just nummy, now....Back then....Not so much...

If you are to get adventursome and cut them open (like I did back then) you will even find a little nugget of green seaweed like stuff in the middle that will just gross you out.

Just saying......

So there I was bout an hour and a half past the time every one else had been excused from the table. Pushing my little peices of oyster around on my plate, and eyeing that little green morsel of goop that was lurking on the edge of my plate...

(Rach In: OhMyLord, every one of us has been there, right?)

Now I'm guessing that my Dad had had just about enough of my postponing the inevitable.... And was going to assert his parental legislative authority, with full enforcement rights. And as the child protective services was just a gleam in some politicians mind.. I am thinking with no restraints....

So the conversation was probably something like this...

YOU WILL EAT THAT RIGHT NOW...

but dad it doesn't taste good.

YES IT DOES, IT IS ONE OF MY FAVORITES.

but dad it is cold.

AND WHO'S FAULT IS THAT???

but da---

EAT IT RIGHT NOW AND THAT IS FINAL...

Now I know that I am pushing the envelope here. My Dad is one of the nicest people I know now.
Back then a very strict disiplinarian...

dad it's gross

IF I TELL YOU ONE MORE TIME I WILL BLISTER YOUR BUTT AND YOU WILL HAVE IT FOR BREAKFAST.

I was pushed past the limits of my 6-year old restraint. Throwing caution to the wind and daring the wrath of my Father. I sat up straight, crossed my arms and with the most petulant bravado that I could muster, I firmly stated...

IF YOU LIKE POOP, YOU EAT IT.

staring straight ahead I awaited the full fury of my Dad....

Nothing....

I waited some more......

still nothing....

I dared a sideways peek,

no movement at all, just a ramrod stiff stance with a far away look on his face.

another peek.

just a slight twitching of his jaw...

"O" lord I was in for it now.

A little longer glance, A twitch with a slight upturning at the corner of his mouth...

I was outright gawking at him now; and to my amazement he was snickering, which quickly turned to a belly laugh...

And that my friends, is the only time in my youth that I can recall dodging the CPC.

~

(Rach In: Aaaaand the irony: we have a 3-year old who would eat nothing but strawberries and peanut butter all day every day if we let him. No oyster poop for this kid).

29 comments:

Woo Hoo, I'm the first one in line for the first time ever. =) (I know, I'm a dork...) LOVED the story about fried oyster poop!! Simply hysterical...xD And the best part was, I could absolutely see that entire scene in my mind from beginning to end...the mark of a truly great storyteller! =) Thanks for the giggles!!!

Rachel, I wanted to thank you for being a part of my first year of blogging! What a wonderful year it has been. I'm throwing a little party and as an honored guest, I would love for you to stop by and share a highlight of your year with all of us.

Second. Funny, funny story. I had to eat soggy golden grahams once because my great grandmother said I couldn't go to school until I did. Scared of her hot tempered German grandma, my mom just stood by and let her do that to me :o)

Oh I remember that club all to well. My brother had the worst gag reflex & he could make himself throw up to get out of eating the gross stuff. That stinker. I like the way you got out of eating it better:)Too funny.

LOL That was a great story! I can remember my parents enforcing this one as well but we got there are children starving all over the world you'd better eat what you have in front of you. Thankfully I have really adventurous kids when it comes to eating and they will try anything and their favorite is Sushi!

Hahaha, I love raw oysters, and had a post recently on SelfSagacity.com called raw and delicious. I can understand how you felt, I felt the same way when I was little and was forced to eat them. But now, I like them because I learned to not acknowledge the green poop? When it's raw and small there isn't much green poop -it's just slimy. All and all, I can visualized myself in your story today. I came by via rawthoughtsandfeelings.comshe is really great about finding wonderful and truthful memes which I would really like to participate in. my first TST today. thanks for hosting.

Oh, that's great. I myself am a lover of a variety of sea-originating foods, but just can't muster to do oysters. My dad smoked some years ago and though they were said to be delicious, I never ate a single one. I tried it, but made the mistake of taking a bite and looking at it.

ROFL!!! That is absolutely hilarious!! What a child genius you were Mr Daddy!!! I had that CPC stuff when I was a kid too! My worst enemy was liver and onions...My mom made if often and hate doesn't begin to describe my feeling for it! The last time she made me eat it I sat at the table for hours begging to be done until it happened...I am not sure where it came from or why but I vomited...all over the table! NEVER had it put in front of me again LOL!!

Love this story! My parents were fans of the Clean Plate Club. My sister found a way around that one night, and dropped her peas, one by one, down a hole in the leg of the kitchen table (one of those old formica ones with hollow metal legs). After the source of the smell was finally discovered, they relaxed on the "clean your plate or else" expectations!